Not Quite Hero
by Tsubasa504
Summary: Peter really wants to be a hero, but sometimes it's time to realize that he's just a lanky teenager and that super-human powers doesn't make him immortal. My take on Spider-Man: Homecoming the ending. Starting from the end fight scene. Parental!Tony
1. Chapter 1

**So, I just watched Spider-Man: Homecoming for the first time and it was really good. I like the father/son relationship between Tony & Peter, and from there I kind of got carried away.**

 **Anyhow, this is my take on how I kind of wish it had ended, starting from the ending fight scene. Peter POV**

 **Please read & review**

 **Not Quite Hero**

Piercing pressure on his chest made him scream. Hands shooting out as they pulled and tugged uselessly at the claw digging deeper into his chest.

A metallic punch to his face had his ears ringing once again. Hands falling limp besides him and warm sand well up around him. Bleary eyes tried to take in the dark vulture like apparatus hovering above him.

The glowing eyes of the helmet staring down at him. Cold. Antipathetic. Just like the continuous punches-that he really should stop.

With a painful twist of his upper torso he stopped the incoming punch. Hearing more than seeing the metallic mechanisms whine and tear at the abrupt forced stop to the limb. Though, he had no time to consider it before he felt his grip being used to pull him up into the air. The sudden change causing his head to spin and blood to pool, hot and heavy, in his ears.

Frantically he lashed out. Superhuman strength bending metal in his fervor. Bruised body barely feeling the impact of a foot kicking harshly upon him.

Then he was dropping. Quickly. His senses trying to reorder themselves and his body twisted midair in hopes of landing on his feet. Instead there was only the feel of hot jagged metal tearing through his flimsy outfit and dragging a burning trail of pain down his ribs.

Without thinking he shot his string out, letting it pull him back up. Eyes and head clearing enough to allow him to swing up above the flying machine man and allow his sticky strings to try entangle the winged machinery. Once he was above it, he fell towards it with all his remaining power, trying to ground it.

Tired feet met metal back, and he was sliding, flailing uselessly to the ground with a heavy thud.

He didn't have the energy to cry out when metal claws were back. Digging deep and tearing at the jagged wound on his ribs.

Time passed as his mind fled him, eyes blanking out and ears ringing.

Sand and heat and the rhythmic pounding filtering through his sluggish senses.

He thought of Mr. Stark; of the judging stare and dark eyes that had looked so disappointed when he took his suit away from him. Thought of the man's anger at him endangering himself.

He wanted to gasp out and say he was sorry. Wishing for the ability to call the man; to just hear his voice. Something to ground him and tell him he had done alright, because right now, right now he felt more human than he had ever in his life.

More human than he had been when his parents had died.

More human than when the spider bit him.

With the raw fiery pain pulsing up his side and the heavy cottoned head, he felt greatly mortal. It scared him; made tired, heavy eyes wet. Warm thick tears sliding down sand covered face as he gasped up at his crush's dad. Somewhere behind the cold eyes and metal mask was a father. Fierce and burning with a desire to give a better life to his family.

That was more strength than he had right now.

More resilience than spider-man could muster.

Just like Mr. Stark had said: He truly was nothing without the suit the man had made. Just a child playing at being a hero.

Fear flared through his chest as he was lifted off the ground. Dangling vulnerably in the vulture's grip. Nothing happened though, and he was dropped back on the ground with a dull thud.

Warm burning sand crawling in through torn clothing and coating blood covered wounds. He'd never had someone drag sandpaper over him, but he was certain that this would be how it felt. How it would feel to have it dragged up and down over him each time he breathed.

Everything seemed to be happening in slow-motion as he laid there, gasping, watching the man who tried unsuccessfully to lift the heavy load that laid on the ground. He twisted and reached out his hand towards the man. Watching as wings sparked and lagged as they tried to lift the heavy load up into the air. "Your wingsuit… Your wingsuit's gonna explode."

With much determination he was able to shoot a string out. Catching on the heavy load that pulled him forward and up.

"Time to go home, Petes."

"I'm trying to save you," he gasped, pulling harder; straining tired muscles.

It was all unappreciated and his string was quickly cut, throwing him back to the ground.

Fear was thick in his throat as he curled in on himself and closed his eyes. The explosion that rocked the area filled him with adrenaline and helped chase the pain away.

He was up before he knew what he was doing, staggering into the flames. Letting them lick up his arms and legs.

"Mr. Toomes…"

The man laid limp under the heavy wreckage of his wingsuit.

With blurry vision and shaky limbs, he had somehow managed to tie the man down. Leaving a scrawled note, before limping away.

His enhanced healing unable to keep up with his heavy damaged body. His bleeding was the only thing that had stopped, other than that his bones still ached and his head felt heavy.

It was more out of habit that he found himself high up on a construction beam. His sticky web the only thing holding him up.

If he fell, he would probably die. He knew that, but that cautious part in him that usually yelled at him for doing stupid things was quiet. Blissfully quiet. Only the New York night breeze and the piercing sirens of emergency crew.

It lulled him slowly and gently into deep sleep.

—V—V—

"This is my fault." Floated into his dreams. A warm familiar voice. "I shouldn't have taken your suit. God, Kid, what have you done to yourself?"

"Mist'r…" Fingers twitched and his eyelids fluttered. "Stark."

"Yeah, I'm here, Kid." Cool fingers of a human hand stroked through his hair.

That was nice. Like… Really nice.

"Your plane…"

"You did good, Kid. Don't worry about it. Happy's taking care of it all."

That's good, he thought. Happy was good at taking care of things like that. Mr. Stark didn't delegate business very well. 'S why he had Ms. Potts and Happy.

His mind was drifting again. Pain had subsided and in its place a disoriented fever seemed to have taken over his body.

"-Hear me, Kid?" Mr. Stark's voice was more high pitched than usual. "Can you open your eyes?"

"Mr. Stark, sir, 's hot." No, that hadn't been what he wanted to say. He should open his eyes, but there was heat in them as well.

"We're gonna move you now, okay? So, yeah, I don't know, deep breaths maybe."

Strong arms, not Mr. Stark's he realized, slid under him. Gently pressing his legs and arms together and bringing him up into the air. Who?

It was only a crack he managed to get them open; to stare into bright blue calm eyes. He'd seen those eyes before, but not that face.

"Capt'n."

"Hey, kiddo."

Warm chest and warm arms, the pain was back, but so was also the heavy darkness.

—V—V—

He remembered coming to now and then. Remembered high pitched beeping and cool hands. There had been a frantic rushing in his ears as well, but that was all gone now.

Slowly he dragged open his eyes. The room was dark-thank God-and wide and spacious unlike his room with his aunt. Not hospital, his brain told him unhelpfully.

He was alone. Neither his eyes nor ears able to pick up any human signature around him.

Sitting up was out of the equation. When he had tried to push his elbows under him to host him up, a sharp pain shot through his ribcage and up into his skull. Whitening his vision.

"Ugh.."

Someone? Anyone?

Fingers spasmed in pain and his eyes prickled with tears that he refused to let fall.

"Good morning, Spider-Man." A quiet electronic voice floated out from the walls around him. "Mr. Banners is on his way as we speak. Would you like for me to call sir here as well?"

Not Karen kind of voice. "Who?"

"I am sirs personal assistant, you may call me FRIDAY."

"FRIDAY," he said quietly, staring blankly up at the dark ceiling.

"What can I do for you, Spider-Man?" Her voice had taken an expected air to it that made Peter huff lightly in amusement.

"I'm good."

"I doubt that very much. You've been unconscious for 32 hours and 36 minutes. You suffered severe concussion and due to three broken ribs suffered internal bleeding as well. Your left lung gave out and you had to be under incubation for the first 24 hours. You have heavy lacerations on both hands and feet, as well as slight swelling to-"

Right, so not good, he thought to himself. Eyes closing as he continued listening to the AI babble off more of his injuries. They were rather extensive. This was the first time his newly enhanced body had been unable to heal him as quickly as it usually did.

Doors slid open somewhere to his left and light footsteps stepped through. "Hey, FRIDAY, don't scare the kid too much. And call Tony, would you."

Peter rolled his head to the side, muscles feeling like they had liquefied.

He opened his mouth to say something, though only a soft whine came through. The man before him was someone he had only heard of. God, he'd even read the man's books. "I'd shake your hands, but I don't seem able to lift them."

Light huffy laughter and kind eyes took him in. "I'll shake your hand later if you want."

"I just want to say: I'm a huge fan. Like Huge." The words spilled from his lips before he could even try to contain them. "I read all your books. You're totally famous, and Ned, his my friend, he will be so jealous when I tell him I met you."

Hands pressed down against his ribcage and Peter realized he had no shirt on. "How about deep breaths for me?"

Right, injuries equals no shirt. Deep breaths. Okay, he can do that.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"Fire. Ugh, maybe, Mr. Stark told me I did good. He's not good with praises you know." He'd even been petted on the head, which had been nice. Mr. Stark had been really nice. "Did I dream that?"

Firm hands turned his head and bright light shone into his eyes that made him flinch. "No. If what Cap told me is true, Tony did indeed praise you." The shining thingy stopped and brown deep eyes narrowed down at him. "Reckless but well done. You would be dead if you had any other body but this one. I don't know what you could have possibly tried to prove by going after a criminal all by yourself. You truly should thank your lucky stars you're not dead."

"S-sorry." Shame burned deep in his chest as he remembered another pair of brown disapproving eyes. "I'm really sorry."

"Sorry won't cut it, Kid. You are so grounded." Mr. Stark's silhouette stood shadowed in the open doorway. Those dark eyes trained only on him as he made his way in. Stopping once he could lean over Peter.

He flinched when a hand came up to his head; causing Mr. Stark to do the same.

"I'm angry," the man began, his hand gently lowering to lay, warm, against his forehead, "but that doesn't mean I would ever hurt you. Got that, Kid?"

He managed out a shaky yeah, eyes remaining fast on the man above him, ignoring Dr. Banner as he moved about him.

"You really did a number on yourself. I was terrified you wouldn't wake up." Sighing the man lowered himself into a chair, though his hand remained firm in Peter's hair. "Look, I took away your suit so that you would leave this mess to us, you know, adults. That doesn't mean go galvanizing out there in your little home-made outfit with no tracker or caller or anything."

"I'm really sorry."

"I know. So am I."

His hand shot up to grab a hold of Mr. Stark's which was still stroking his head lightly; ignoring the pain that tore through his side.

No, the man didn't understand. He didn't realize just how afraid he had been. How much he had wished he could have called.

"I'm really, really sorry." The prickling feel of tears came unbridled and he was unable to stop them as they rolled thick and heavy down his cheeks. "Really sorry."

The man's shoulders slouched and there was a pained look in his eyes. "Me too, Kid, me too."

The rest of the check up went quietly. Dr. Banner moved around quiet as a mouse. Touch soft and gentle as he moved limbs and pressed down on sore muscle.

"Healing's good. I had you hooked up on some nutritions which is helping the healing along." There was some clatter as he cleared out another chair and plumped down in it. "Your eyes are clearing already and most of the breaks have healed without any problems. You'll be sore, which you'll have to work through."

It was as if a thick ball unclogged from his throat and Peter could finally breathe in fresh air. "Thank you, Dr. Banner."

"As Tony said though, grounded is good. I'd say no strenuous activities for a while. Give yourself time to heal. Some injuries aren't always physical, you know?"

Licking his lips he met the other man's eyes nervously. "You think I'll have nightmares?"

The man rubbed the bridge of his nose and leaned in with a serious air about him. "Something like that."

Swallowing, Peter took in the solemn air of the two men before nodding lightly. "Can I get up?"

"If you can. The worst is healed. Your ribs and lungs are fragile at the moment, so keep movement slow. Which means no climbing walls, no shooting webbing. Just rest."

Dr. Banner pushed back his chair and stretched. Nodding to Mr. Stark before he made his way out.

He stared at Mr. Stark with uncertain eyes. So many questions at the tip of his tongue. None which he wanted to say. Part of him really wished for his phone so he could just text or something. That was always easier. That way he could look away from those eyes. God, they were so judging.

He whined low in his throat and rolled his head away.

"I've prepared a room for you. Your aunt has also been contacted."

"Did you tell her?"

The harsh sigh and withdrawing hands made him flinch again, curling legs closer towards his torso. "No, but it was close. Geezus, kid, you stopped breathing! You know, I'm all for the hidden identity and all, 's cool, but this can't go on. Once you're good enough, we are having a long chat with your aunt. 'Tills then, you are grounded. There'll be no leaving Stark Compound, you hear?"

He nodded lightly, pushing through the pain to curl even tighter.

"Think you can stand?"

"No."

"Okay..."

Peter listened to the clothing that rustled behind him. Feeling how the air moved with the man. He thought maybe the man would get up and leave, but he remained where he was. Warm strong hands coming back to comb through his hair.

Just closing his eyes and sleeping was nice, and just forgetting that the whole previous day had happened. Maybe after that, he'd be able to muster up some spider-strength and look the man he admired so much in the face without wanting to cry.

"If you want to stay here for the night I can go get you some blankets or... you know, I'll go get Steve again. He's good with moving stuff around."

That made previous closed eyes snap open as he remembered staring into clear blue eyes. "Steve Rogers? As in Captain America?"

"That's right. You saw him just over a day ago."

Swallowing, he shuffled a little to the side. Wide eyes staring up at the billionaire. "You guys made up?"

The hands stopped and a pained grimace covered the elder's face. "Yeah, sure. Made up. If that's what it's called nowadays."

"I don't actually understand what you mean."

"Look, Kid. A lot happened. With the Avengers and so forth. What happened in Germany, things like that can't be forgotten so easily."

He pushed against the pain to roll over a little more. "Why's he here then?"

"Ah, I like you, Kid," the man chuckled, ruff hands carding through his hair. "Steve's just stubborn like that. He gets this kicked puppy dog look and honor is practically his first name. Once he gets this idea in his head that he wants to fix something, well he just won't let it be."

"He's staying here?"

"Yeah, he's staying here."

"And the others?"

The grimace was back. "Just some. You know, Bruce's good. He was gone for awhile, but he's back now."

"Mr. Stark, you know I'm a fan and it is a huge honor to be allowed to meet-"

"Thank you."

"Dr. Banner…"

"Right. Forgot. How could I? You're a huge fan boy." The man stood and turned around, fidgeting with something in his hands, eyes having that weird calculating look that they sometimes got. "Weren't you supposed to be a huge fan of Captain America."

"Oh, don't get me wrong, I love Captain America. I grew up listening to stories about him, but, I mean, Bruce Banner is a genius."

"So am I."

"I read all his books. I even tried to replicate one of his theories-Though I failed. Should have seen that coming."

"I don't have books. Is that what I'm missing?

"Your suits are cool, though-"

"Uh-uh, no you don't, just no." Fingers that smelled strongly of oil and metal were pressed against his lips. "No off-handed compliments, Spider-Boy."

"Its-it's Spider-Man."

Yeah, that raised eyebrow was definitely judging. "Short stuff, can you move?"

With startled blinks he tried to move his body a little. Drawing in a deep breath and feeling it strain against tired ribs. "Ugh, a little. I'm feeling better. Think my healing has finally kicked in like normal."

"Good. You still want a lift or you think you can…?"

It was painful, but with a little help from Mr. Stark he was able to push himself up into a sitting position. Back unnaturally straight to keep from compressing in on delicate ribs.

His head swam and black dots covered most of his vision; tilting him back towards the bed.

"Help," he managed to gurgle out. Hands grasping on to the fine material of the older man's shirt, pulling it tight and dragging him down partially with his super-human strength.

"Okay, stop. I've got you. If you keep moving like that I won't be able to settle you back down. FRIDAY, call the captain here. We need some extra manpower."

"All ready done, sir. Shall I ask the doctor to return as well?"

"Nah, we're good. Just gonna get the kid settled into a better bed."

He had stopped pushing and pulling and just let the other man handle his weight, slight as it was. His breathing had escalated during their little adventure and it caught in short desperate gasps in his throat.

"Deep breaths," Mr. Stark said. His hand was placed warm against his chest, pushing down lightly to get him to draw in a deep breath. "Hold and count kid, you've got this."

"Shit, not feeling so good, Mr. Stark." His eyes had closed again and he tried forcing them open, only to be met with a spinning room. Ugh, no.

"Language. Your super healing is drawing on your metabolism, and as you haven't had anything to eat in a while, I'd say your blood sugar is rather low. No quick moments and the dizziness should go away."

"You guys doing okay?"

"Cap, nice timing. If you'd do the honors." The previous hands were replaced by ones that emitted a great deal of warmth. It sunk down into this bones and made him go limp in appreciation.

Cracking open one eye, he was greeted by the unmasked face of Captain America. "Hey, Captain, just wanted to say I'm sorry I stole your shield."

Captain America leaned forward, laughing as he scooped him up. "No problem. I was impressed."

"Really?" He was unable to keep out his disbelief as he stared up with star-lit eyes at the national hero.

"Yeah," the captain replied. Already moving out of the room. "How old are you anyways?"

"Fifteen." Okay, that look in his eyes could not be good. "You shouldn't blame Mr. Stark."

The strong jaw bone ticked as they were bit together. "I don't blame him."

Mr. Stark for his part just hummed next to them not making any move to defend himself. This topic seemed to be a rather sensitive one. One Peter wasn't 100% sure he should butt into.

The med bay was filled with high tech equipment, all which he really wanted to sink his hands into. He wanted to fiddle and take apart and see how it worked. The compound had enough weird technology in it that he barely had time to feel embarrassed over being carried by one of his heroes. Instead he was staring around, tilting his head left and right, and trying to see over strong biceps at the rooms they passed.

"You're gonna make yourself sick with dizziness if you keep that up, Kid," Mr. Stark commented. "You'll have plenty of time to take it all in later. You are after all grounded."

And wasn't that weird to think of, he thought. Being grounded by Iron Man. "You can't ground me."

"Yeah, you want to see if I can't?"

"Well, no. I mean, you're not my dad…"

Shifting arms forced his eyes to turn back to the man holding him. "Okay, enough of that. We're here anyways."

The room was spacious. Queen sized bed in the middle with a sturdy desk under a large window and tall bookcase. The room was painted in dark hues that soothed his over sensitive eyes.

"I-I can stay here?"

"You will stay here."

"Um, yeah, I can do that."

The captain settled him gently into the middle of the bed and Mr. Stark made his way around to the other side. Hands pulling down the duvet and quickly tucking him right back in the moment he'd been settled.

"We'll talk later, Kid. For now, sleep. I'll bring something protein rich up to you shortly. I want you to eat."

Captain nodded in agreement and straightened. "Your body's gone through the same kind of change as mine after the serum. So, you need plenty of protein and nutrients, otherwise you'll crash. Strong or not, your body will slowly give out on you. Don't skip meals, kiddo, it's not gonna turn out well for you from now on."

"Okay."

—V—V—

Time passed slowly for Peter while he was bedridden. It was boring and the only person to keep him company was Mr. Stark, who for the most part was busy doing conference calls.

It took him two days after waking up to be good enough to be up and about without any pain. Though his muscles remained slightly sore and stiff.

Dr. Banner had been by a few more times and told him to stretch. All which were new experiences for him as he had never been overly active before the bite, and after the bite, had never needed to do any stretching or training to keep in shape.

Now he could be found bending forward awkwardly trying to pull out his calf and thigh muscles. Hands on the floor and head almost as well.

"Are you trying to become a pretzel or something?"

He shot up, almost jumping right up on the ceiling, before he remembered the rules.

"Mr. Stark!"

"Oh, for crying out loud, just call me Tony or something." The man was leaning against his door frame, tired, dark circles under his eyes.

"Um...T-Tony," he managed to stutter out. Face flushing as he stared a hole down at the ground.

"Better. Now get dressed. Your aunts here."

"Aunt May?" he yelped.

"Do you have another aunt?" The man was already leaving, waving a lazy hand over his shoulder.

"Um… No."

"Get dressed."

Without thinking, he shot out a web at the closet door, trying to pull it open.

It didn't really work and ended up more or less locking the door fast. "Shit." He pulled at the handle unsuccessfully, scared that he might pull the handle off.

"Language," came floating through the still open door.

"Sorry, Mr. Stark. I mean, T-Tony."

Dressing was done frantically once he'd been able to tear the webbing away.

Happy had been kind enough to gathering his clothing from his aunts place, but he'd been too lazy to pack it away correctly, so it all laid out on the closet floor in strewn heaps.

He was tugging at his hair when he left, going out into the common area that he and mister… um… Tony shared.

So engrossed in it was he that he practically felt himself have a heart attack when his aunt launched herself at him. Throwing thin, wiry arms around his shoulders and pressing a bony nose into his collar bone.

"Hey, aunt May," he greeted her. His own arms coming down around her as he soaked in her familiar presence.

There was a wet warmness of tears gathering on his shirt and the usually sturdy shoulders shook slightly under his grip. "Peter Parker, you are in so much trouble," she said. Voice low and catching as a silent sob rose in her.

He threw a panicked look at the man who was standing by the couch with his head tilted.

The raised brow said he was on his own.

"I'm sorry, aunt May."

She just nodded and pressed closer.

After awhile she loosened her grip and moved back slightly. "You smell weird."

"Ugh, um…"

Tony was all of a sudden there and helping lead his aunt to the couch. "Oh, that would be his shampoo. See, we just moved into this compound here, and all there was for him to use was Pepper's shampoo-Which she so kindly let him borrow."

He met Tony's oh-so innocent eyes with his own narrowed ones. The man was a menace. He'd pushed that shampoo on him as a punishment. It was all flowery and girly and, oh God, Peter had somehow already managed to get used to it. A testament to how tired he must have been after waking up and taking in all that was Stark Compound.

"That's nice of her." His aunt had already managed to find herself a cup of tea and was cradling it in her hands.

He just ran an exasperated hand down his face.

Tony and aunt May were two people who should not be in the same room together. His aunt was naive and Tony was a childish prankster.

—V—V—

Even starting to tell her about spider-man took longer than he thought it would. They spend a long time just sitting on the couch sipping tea. His aunt checking him over and asking how he was doing. Tony for his part remained quiet. Arm thrown up on the couch's back just behind where he sat.

Finally his aunt seemed to have steeled herself enough to set her tea down. "So, tell me how exactly you ended up injured. There was something about a building collapsing on the news and also the plane crash. You weren't there, where you?"

Biting his lip nervously he turned to Tony for confirmation. The man, as always, was unhelpful. "I was."

"Oh, gosh. Was it the building? You where in the building. They said no one was there, but you where. Did you call Mr. Stark, is that how you got out?" She had barely stopped to breath in her hast to ask all her questions, only slowing down towards the end. "You don't seem hurt. Not a bruise on you."

"Yeah, about that. You see, aunt May, I heal really quickly."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "No you don't. Remember that time you tripped down the stairs and sprained your ankle. You couldn't walk for like over a month. It was so bad the doctors almost thought it was a break."

"Yeah, but that was then and this is now."

"I don't think I'm following."

Okay, time to go for it. Just say it, like you practiced in the mirror. Come on, Peter, you can do it, he told himself and leaned forward to grasp a hold of his aunt's hand. "I'm Spider-Man."

"Spider-Boy," Tony murmured sarcastically behind him.

He shot the man a dark look before looking back into his aunt's bright and, ugh, yeah, unbelieving eyes.

"Oh, honey. Did you get mugged?"

He shot back and almost tripped off the couch in his disbelief. "What? No."

She leaned forward with worried eyes, bringing up his hands into hers. "Are you being bullied?"

"Um… No."

"Then, is this a cry for attention? Did I do something wrong? Are you… Are you sleeping with someone?"

"Oh, God, stop!"

Tony had already fallen of the couch laughing. His hands pressed to his chest as he tried to contain himself.

Peter could just stand there, having sprung up off the couch; taking in the chaotic scene about him. His aunt and her honest, but unhelpful questions and Tony with his childish laughter.

"No, really, I'm Spider-Man. I can shot web and crawl on the ceiling and things."

She was still giving him that look.

"Did you bait him into saying this?" she wondered, turning her attention towards Tony.

"Oh, I wish I had. This is priceless. Hey, FRIDAY, you recording this?"

"Of course, sir, as with all rooms that have cameras this one is also being recorded on."

The man straightened some and pulled himself back on the couch. "Perfect."

"Aunt May, please ignore him." He knelt down in front of her, eyes pleading as he tried to make her believe him. "I really am Spider-Man. Please believe me."

"Kid, why don't you just show her what you can do."

Blinking, he nodded rapidly, standing up and stepping back some. "Okay, here goes," he said with a deep breath before flipping himself up onto the ceiling.

His aunt's reaction probably wouldn't have been better if he had seen it right-side up. She let out a rather pained wail before rolling her eyes up into her head and dropping like a sack to the side.

"Oh, no." He dropped down lightly by her side and grabbed a hold of lax shoulders.

"Oh, yes."

"Mr. Stark, you're not helping."

The man grunted and got up. "Tony."

—V—V—

Unsurprisingly, his aunt didn't take the news very well. Once she came to the wired look remained in her eyes as he tried to explain the rest. She left looking dazed, promising to be back the next day. She was going to bring over the school work he had missed. Happy had said he'd go get it, but his aunt had dismissed him with a wave of her hand. Saying she could handle something easy like that herself.

Peter was just happy for the quietness that had befallen the compound.

Tony remained in their common room replaying the event on his Stark phone, laughing quietly to himself. Finally, after a longtime, he grew tired of it and with a dismissive wave and comment headed for his labs. Allowing Peter the calm quietness he'd been looking forward to.

Peter glid down the couch in exhaustion and stared blankly up the high vaulted ceiling. FRIDAY's camera blinking brightly in the corner of the room.

After that, his aunt spent a lot of time with him that week. Sometimes she would ask about his spider-abilities, but mostly she just watched movies with him while Tony was out working. She didn't bring up his injuries again nor did she ask about how he had received them.

Captain America dropped by now and then, carrying food. Which had been a great surprise to learn about: that the national hero was a great chef.

The man never stayed long, but he always brought with him a certain calm that just seemed to settle everyone's nerves. Even though his aunt kept saying she'd already gotten over her surprise.

By the end of the week, though, his aunt had to return back to work and he himself had to go back to school. Apparently aunt May and Tony had conspired and made up some sort of family drama story that they had fed the school. Peter wasn't sure he even understood half of it, but Tony had promised no one would ask him any questions. Solid proof is what he had called it.

Returning to school was awkward. There was a depressed air that hung to the whole place. Ned was his usual self and chatted on next to him, but Liz wouldn't even look his way.

When he had finally managed to break away from Ned and corner Liz alone, she had given him such a sad look that he had almost backed away without saying anything.

"I just wanted to say that I'm really sorry, Liz," he managed to get out. Hands shaking by his side as he grasped ahold of his shirt with nervous fingers.

"Really? About what?" Eyes usually weren't that cold. The fact that they came from his crush was almost unbearable. Like, he totally right now just wanted to go and crawl back into that huge bed at the Stark Compound. "About homecoming? Or you know…"

Shifting in place, he brought his eyes up to hers. "About your dad." His voice was quiet and timid. Like going back to before the spider bite. When he had been just a nerd. Practically asthmatic in his inability to do sports. Just brains and no brawn.

"Yeah, well…" She looked tired he realized. Hidden behind cold eyes was just a lost teenager like himself. Neither of them were heroes and they were definitely not adults. Just smart kids trying to win first place in the Academic Decathlon. "We're moving now. Mom wants us far away from here for dad's trial."

She was walking passed him and it was like not being seen all over again.

"Wait." He reached out. Her smooth skin sliding into his hand. He had brought her to a stop, but what should he do? She stared at him expectantly. He could even make out Ned further down the hall making some sort of pushing gesture with his hands. "I know I haven't really been the best kind of friend."

She snorted and tugged on her hand. "Yeah, that's an understatement."

Throwing caution to the wind, he grasped her hand and turned it over, gliding his own lightly over it. He looked up into her eyes, cursing a little bit about her being taller than him. "For what it's worth though, I'm really, truly sorry."

When he pulled back, in the middle of a her palm was a small sticky web.

He turned and sprinted down the hall before she could say anything. Heart pounding and head buzzing.

"Oh, God, what did I do?" he muttered over and over to himself as he vaulted over the school fence and continued out into the city.

 **/Tsubasa**


	2. Chapter 2

**A lot of people really liked this story. Thank you all for your support. I had not planned to make a second chapter but here it is!**

 **I also want to say that I like to imagine that Peter can produce his own web, though a lot less durable and not so competent to use when fighting, and that is why Peter made the web-shooters. So, he really likes his webs, they are a part of him.**

—V—V—

The phone call stopped him in his tracks. He glided forward on the concrete roof. Leg muscles tense as he tried to stop himself before he had to make another jump.

He fumbled for his phone, heart rate still thundering away at a 100 miles an hour. Not from exertion, he knew, but rather due to the rather massive nervous breakdown he was having.

Tony Stark blinked up at him from his screen, and the world came crashing down.

He took in his surroundings with wild eyes, 20 or so stories high and still in civilian clothes.

Oh no, ran through his head like a mantra while he pushed himself flat against a small roof extension in hopes that it would hide him.

"Hello, Mr. Stark," he answered in a meek tone. Curling tighter together with the phone pressed harsh against his head.

"What have I said about this? Just call me Tony." He nodded before realizing the man couldn't see him and opened his mouth to reply; the man beat him to it. "So, Kid, feel like telling me why your heart rate is off the roof and your GPS says you're no longer at school?"

"I-um-what?" he gurgled out in surprise. "You have a heart monitor on me?"

Even through the phone he could hear the exasperated sigh. "Seriously, that's what you take from this."

"Sorry, Tony."

"Yeah, yeah. Stop apologizing. Just get down here, I've come to pick you up."

Looking about he stared out across the roof, then with nervous movements looked over the rooftop down on the street below. "What?"

"You heard me, Spider-Boy. I'm on my way, like literally 30 seconds away. So, crawl down and meet me on the street."

"Won't people notice me?" he said as he shuffled back into his little ball.

"Like they haven't already. You should just be happy you seemed to have mind enough to pull up your hood before you went prancing about."

He drew his hand up to his hair, feeling it soft and fluffy against his fingertips. He followed his head down to where indeed his hood laid against his shoulders, most likely having fallen down.

"Um, should I crawl down the building?"

"If you want to make a bigger mess than what has already happened, sure go ahead. Otherwise, the door should be unlocked on the building your at. So, how about you take that and then take the elevator down."

"Yeah, I can-I can do that."

Still feeling incredibly exposed, he drew the hood right back up and walked crouched close to the ground. He fumbled with the handle once before getting it open; opening it only enough so that he could slip in. The stairway down was dark but his eyes quickly adjusted. Spider senses going into overdrive.

"Is this considered breaking and entering?" he asked into the phone he still held against his ear.

"Are you worrying about this just because you don't have your spider suit because, Kid, I have news for you, you've broken and entered quite a few places in your search for justice."

"You're right, that was stupid off me."

"Just get down, the elevator should come up on your left." The line went dead.

No one entered the elevator with him. The ride down was horrible, every floor he passed felt like an eternity. Soft elevator music buzzed annoyingly in his ears, and he couldn't help himself but to stare at a dirty spot on the carpeted floor with utter fascination. What had caused it?

He jerked when the doors opened; practically flying up onto the ceiling.

First floor and not a single person in sight.

He could already see Tony's car parked out front against the curb. There was no way to mistake it, way too flashy for any normal human. Also, Tony had rolled down the window and was staring at him with piercing eyes from over his yellowish looking sunglasses.

He jogged out and around the car, throwing himself down into the passenger seat where he tried to sink as low down as possible.

"Seatbelt."

He managed to get it on just in time before Tony speed out into traffic. Car swirling around the busy streets with no forethought of the people around him.

"Thanks for picking me up."

"Uh-huh."

"Um, you didn't have to."

"So, why aren't you at school?" The man took his eyes of the road, and Peter felt his heart quickly speed up again.

"Eyes. Maybe you should look at the road?"

"And this?" A phone was shoved in his face, showing him jumping up the side of a building and disappearing across the rooftop.

The car jerked a little as they swirled again.

"Um, I kind of panicked."

Tony's sharp brow quirked at that. "You call this, kind of panicked?"

"Well, there is this, kind of... girl at my school."

"Right, Ameda, right?" Tony said nodding his head in understanding.

"What, no. Liz!"

The man had at least both his hands back on the wheel now and they had driven past the city limit and out towards Stark Compound.

"So, what about Liz?"

He twisted his hands together and tugged on the seatbelt. Eyes down cast in his lap. "I, I might have told her I'm Spider-Man."

"Oh~kay. So, what, you told her just like you did with your aunt May? Then what?"

He couldn't make himself look up, just twisting his hands together harder. "No. I didn't directly tell her I'm Spider-Man. Just, you know, showed her."

"Right, back it up to the beginning. Showed her how?"

The car screeched in a sharp curve and the compound now loomed up before them.

"I might have made a little, um, web in her hand?" he said.

The man froze, eyes off the road again to stare at him. "You made a web," the man clarified, "in her hand."

"Yeah, when you say it, it doesn't sound so good, Mr. Stark."

Tony just shook his head. "I don't think it could sound better any other time."

The silence was deafening. Tony went back to driving, slowing down as they finally reached the compound. Peter was certain they'd probably set a new record.

"So, how did she take it?"

"I don't know. I panicked. I just ran." With large puppy dog eyes he turned to Tony. "Do you think she will hate me, now that she knows?"

"I'm not sure she knows," Tony answered, reversing the car down into the basement with perfection.

"What do you mean?"

Once he came to a full stop he turned towards Peter, eyes sincere. "Well, most people don't like spiders. Most people don't like cobwebs. Are you following?" Peter nodded. "So, let's say someone placed a small cobweb in your hand. I think their first reaction would be disgust followed hastily by trying to wipe it off on any nearest surface that's not themselves."

"She wiped off my web?" His eyes lowered to his lap, all movements going on shut down.

"Yeah… Okay, don't look like that. That's sad. Don't cry. Is this a girl you have a crush on?"

He nodded once, hands already going for the door handle to open it and get out into a bigger space. Maybe some fresh air would clear his mind.

"But you know, who knows, maybe she didn't mind and was able to figure it out," Tony called after him as he made his way towards the elevator.

A childish part of him wanted to jab the close button so that Tony couldn't follow him. It was too bad FRIDAY took care of all functions.

The man stood next to him, awkwardly shuffling back and forth before turning fully to look at him. "Okay, let's replay it."

He blinked up at the man confused; still stuck in his sad little world where the crush of his life wipes away his earnestly made web. "Replay?"

"Yeah, how did you make the web. Show me?" The man put out his hand, palm up. Playboy smile in place.

Maybe it was supposed to be calming but Peter still felt hesitant.

"Um, okay. Don't laugh."

The man's hand was warmer and bigger than his. Much too different from how it had felt when he had done this with Liz. With her it had felt special. With Tony, well, weird was certainly one way to describe it.

The man just looked at their hands with that curious, calculating look he sometimes got when he was tinkering with his machinery.

Peter pushed away the small warning alarms ringing in his head and did as the man had asked. Covering the warm palm with his own and concentrated. When he pulled back a small intricate web laid there.

Peter smiled happily and looked up.

Tony for his part was trying to hold back a grimace. Hand shaking slightly at the sticky, webbed feeling that tickled his palm.

"Yeah, you know how I said she might not mind. I'm taking that back."

Peter didn't even wait for the doors of the elevator to open fully before he raced out. He jumped the stairs and was in his bedroom before anyone could stop him.

—V—V—

It didn't matter how many times Tony knocked, he refused to answer. Burrowing his face deeper into his pillow and wriggling the blanket up over his body more.

Tears came, unbidden, hot and heavy as they fell down his checks. His body racked with shivers as he tried to breath through his silent sobs.

Part of him hated Tony, another part of him knew the man was most likely right. Things that had been easier to handle before the spider bite all of a sudden, felt so much more difficult.

With superb hearing it was impossible to ignore school yard bullying. Sometimes it even caused him to accidentally cheat during tests. Things he shouldn't know became a norm. Yet, he constantly had to try and hide it. Tired brain trying to remember what was okay and what wasn't. Sometimes it just felt like he was on a constant adrenaline boost. Mind running on overdrive and a hundred different thoughts vying for attention.

His strength made normal everyday task a right hell as he tried to control just how much or in his case how little strength to use. Hand shakes could turn painful in a moment if he wasn't careful. Being Spider-Man was his only freeing moment. When there was no hiding, no lying. No one hated Spider-Man because he helped deal with the violence and the thugs in Queens. No one had ever made a rude comment about his webs, which by this point was second nature for him to make. But Tony's comment felt like it had pierced deep into him. Hit at all his mistakes and misgivings. Torn loose every part of him that was spider-man, and left him only as he was, teenage loser. The high school nerd.

Of course he wouldn't know what a girl would want. How could the school loser ever know how to pick up a girl? He was just embarrassing himself by trying. Had embarrassed himself by trying. Now all he wanted to do was lay and wallow in his sorrow. Away from humans and human interactions. This month had been hell. He could barely think of one good memory in it at all. Just covered with one mistake after another.

"You're gonna have to eat at some point," Tony's voice came floating through the door. The man didn't need to yell. Even if he made the rooms soundproof, enough sounds would float out from cracks in the door that Peter could easily pick them up if he concentrated.

Another thing he currently hated about himself as he pushed the pillow harder over his head.

"I'm getting Bruce."

That was unfair. Peter liked Dr. Banner. The man was always so calm; he never yelled or made rude comments. He'd even allowed Peter access to his lab where he had shown him around and helped make a new prototype for his web-shooter. One that would hopefully be able to refill his web-shooters without him having to constantly open them up and do it manually.

He shuffled a little, freeing a hand to drag his phone closer to his face. Six missed messages from Ned. The messages went from wondering where he had run off to and ending with a question if he was out crime fighting. It also had a reminder not to forget his Guy in the Chair.

That brought a small smile to his face. At least Ned would always remain the same.

He sent of a message to let him know he was at the Stark Compound. Remembering a little too late that Ned didn't actually know about all of this yet. He had no idea that Peter had spent the last week and a half living at this place.

The reply came instantly.

It contained a great deal of exclamation points. Something about a war machine and there was also something about a potato which he assumed must be a spelling mistake.

After some deciphering on his part, he sent of another reply.

The tears had stopped after a while and he had managed to crawl himself out of his bed sheets. Propping himself up on his elbows as he continued chatting.

The soft knock that came couldn't have been anyone other than Dr. Banner. Everything about the man was soft. The man didn't say anything, he just stood on the other side of the door, waiting.

Another small knock and Peter rolled out of bed. Quiet feet tipping across the room to gently pull the door open an inch or two. Meeting brown eyes that where about even with his.

"Can I come in?"

He shuffled back to the bed, letting the other man push the door open himself. The room was dark but Dr. Banner didn't complain. He joined him on the bed, perched by one of the corners.

"Tony told me he messed up. I can only assume what that meant." The man did this nervous kind of shuffle that had Peter roll a little closer to him in curiosity. "You know, becoming the hulk changed a lot in me. Mostly though, it changed the way people saw me. I was all of a sudden being handled with kiddy gloves, and let's just say if you have anger-management problems being handled like you might snap that just makes you want to snap even more. It was not a good couple of first years for me after the change. People kept telling me they weren't afraid but I could see the hitch in their breath and the fine shiver going through their hands as they came closer."

Peter sat up a little straighter; dragging the blanket with him. "I'm not afraid of you, and I know Tony isn't either."

Dr. Banner leaned back more relaxed. And Peter was able to make out a smile just on the curve of his lips in the dark. "Tony was one of the first. He was never afraid. He likes dangerous things, makes him feel alive I presume. But even so, I don't think he acts that way just because he isn't afraid. Tony generally likes people a lot. He likes digging down and finding out the truth and the real character of the person. Sometimes he does it to annoy you; other times I think he does it not to hurt you but because he really doesn't know what to do with all the information. He gathers and gathers and most likely hopes that he'd be able to figure out how this friendship thing works. We aren't his robots after all. Feelings between humans have to go both ways. For people like us, who like to study things, take it apart and later put it back together-maybe even try making it better, human interactions can be difficult." Dr. Banner ran a hand through his hair and took in the cluttered room. "Look, I don't know what Tony said that made you cry. I'm not trying to say his words don't hurt. Just want you to know that Tony thinks the world of you, Peter. So, even if it sounds mean and unthoughtful, I'm certain Tony meant it with the best intentions in mind."

Swallowing, Peter looked down at his clenched hands. Dragging the quilt around his shoulders and pulling warmth from it. "I know Mr. Stark really cares. I don't think he would do so much for me if he didn't. It's just sometimes I feel that he doesn't see the whole me. Like he thinks that Spider-Man can be taken off as easily as the suit he made for me. But I can't. I can't make them two different people." His voice sounded lame. Small and quiet, and he wished he wasn't so close to crying again.

Dr. Banner's hands were cold. Not to an uncomfortable degree, just cool where they laid across his lap. "Peter, I don't think anyone here at the compound expects you to be anything you're not. But I also think that maybe you think that to be who you are you have to be out there as Spider-Man, patrolling the city."

The man was right, that was something Peter missed. He wanted that to be a part of him. He missed the feel of swinging between buildings and stopping crime.

"I don't really think Tony would stop you from doing that." With a deep breath the man pushed on. "But as an adult who cares about you, I also don't want you to do that."

Peter blinked up at the man. "That's not okay. You guys get to be out there as the Avengers and I have to wait here at home. Doing nothing."

"And if you got shot, how do you think we would feel? You out there all alone."

He flinched and pulled away from the cool hand. "I won't get shot."

"That's the teenager in you talking. I know you're smart, you can calculate the probability of yourself dying well enough without me having to spell it out for you. Tony worries. As do I. As do Steve."

"So, you guys just want me to sit at home all the time?" he asked, unable to make eye contact.

The door all of a sudden pushed open much harder than it really needed to. Tony stood there with his hands clenched and jaw set. "No, I want you to be a teenager. You know, complain a lot. Skip school. Go to prom. Building model replicas of the Death Star with your friend. I don't care if you build it on the ceiling or if your build it using your web as glue. I just want you safe."

Tears had already started forming again, and he wiped uselessly at his eyes. "You shouldn't eavesdrop, 's bad manners."

"Yeah, I'll work on that," the man said, crossing the room with large steps. His hands were warm as always when they slid around his shoulders; bringing him into a tight hug.

It was embarrassing and totally uncool to be crying on one of the most famous superhero billionaires. A superhero who was starting to become a lot more for Peter each time they met.

He just dug his hands harder into the tight shirt that smelled of oil and Tony's cologne. The man didn't mention his tears. Just patted him on his back and ruffled his hair.

"For clarification, I totally don't hate your webs. They're just ticklish and makes my hand twitch a lot."

"Did you wipe it off?"

Peter could feel the man's smile against the top of his head and tightened his arms around the man. "Nah, I had it solidified and placed in my workshop."

Peter sniffed. "You kept it?"

"Yeah, well, you made it."

—V—V—

That day they had a large family dinner. Everyone at the compound got together and made a large hot pot. Steve Rogers was amazing, Peter thought. The man could make anything in the kitchen into an ingredient.

The pot was more flavored than what he was used to but it was all delicious. It was a loud evening; Tony complained that there was no alcohol which Dr. Banner chided him for. It was also one of the first times that Peter got to spend a longer time with the man known as Vision. The man spoke like a robot, and Peter was immediately fascinated.

Sadly his abilities were too powerful so he wasn't allowed to do anything inside, and Peter couldn't wait for the day he would see the man in action. It sounded awesome.

The Black Widow had joined them as well and he couldn't help himself but to shuffle a little away from her. She had a scary look in her eyes. Sure, they had fought together-super cool and all but she was scary. Even Tony looked at her with cautious eyes. Peter thought it was probably a good thing they were having hot pot cause she looked like she could do some serious harm if she had a knife in her hand.

The next day Peter refused to go to school. He was still embarrassed over what he had done and couldn't stand the idea of looking Liz in the eyes. Tony accepted it but had promised him that it was only a one time thing.

They'd spent most of the day down in the workshop. Tony had allowed him to try and replicate some of his older projects which was fun. Difficult but fun. Tony was a genius but he also cheated a lot because FRIDAY always did all of his calculations. That just cut down the work time so much. Peter really wanted FRIDAY to help him but Tony had said that he had to do it all himself first before he was allowed to have FRIDAY as help.

Super uncool.

The day passed too fast, and before he knew it he was standing by the school doors again. Whatever cool superhero-ness that he felt living at the compound disappeared just as fast the moment he was by himself at school. Like cool water washing away his confidence.

The school was loud. Yelling and chattering, and it was all driving a painful nail into his delicate head. He breathed through it. Used to it.

Ned flew down the hall at him the moment he was spotted. His large body actually going pretty slow.

His friend's hands grasped his shoulders and shook, an unnecessary long spew of words falling out of his mouth. Mostly consistent of "Omg, you live at the Stark Compound. That is so cool! Do you get to fight with the Avengers? Did you meet them all? Oh. My. God. You're a superhero. You're so cool. Spider-Man is the greatest." At which point Peter was starting to freak out a little. Dragging his friend away from the hallway and trying to push him into an empty classroom. Of which there were none.

"Be quiet."

"I can't believe this. And I'm your Guy in the Chair."

"Stop calling yourself that. That's so embarrassing. And no, I'm not an Avenger."

"That's okay, you're still Spider-Man. You don't need a team."

His friend was not getting it. He was also not falling silent. So Peter threw his hand over his friend's mouth; looking around with worried eyes.

"Thanks. Um, didn't realize you thought so highly of me."

Mumbling and some more mumbling greeted him.

"Ugh, no. I'm not letting you talk. You just announced to the world my secret."

Some more indistinguishable mumbling and an eye roll.

"Are you getting cheeky with me? Now I'm definitely not letting you talk."

Yeah, okay. The mumbling against his palm was starting to get kind of disgusting. He let go and wiped his hand on his friend's shirt.

"Where is Liz?"

Ned was already on track to say something and had to stop in the middle. Mouth a gap.

"Um, not here. Didn't you say goodbye to her that day you ran out of school?"

"No, I told you what I did."

"Yeah, which sounded like a goodbye."

Peter just shook his head. "Who cares. Where is she?"

"What do you mean? She moved. Didn't she tell you that?"

"Yeah, but it's literally been like one day. I skipped one day of school. She can't be gone already."

"Dude, they're moving today. She's already quit school. Yesterday was the last day."

Peter just shook his head back and forth frantically. Hands grasping a hold of his short hair and pulling at it in an anguished motion. "No, no, no. This can't be."

"Like, you are totally freaking out. Should we call Mr. Stark?"

"What, no. It's just." He grumbled and tried to think through the pain that had welled up in his chest. He had wanted to tell her. Not just leave a web, but actually stand there in front of her and tell her. The truth. All of it. And now this. His brain felt all numb and mushy. "Never mind. Let's just go to class."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, it's okay."

"You know, you could probably catch her if you ran right now," Ned said, looking down the school corridor towards the entrance.

Peter just laughed and pushed his friend's back towards their first period. "Tony'll kill me if I did that. Seriously, Ned, it's okay."

"If you say so," Ned said. He hiked his backpack up and fell into step with Peter. "If you've got time later, I've got a new model replica if you're interested in building?"

"Yeah, I'm interested."

They laughed, shoulders pushing against each other; ignoring the weird looks directed their way as they passed down the hall together.

 **The End**

 **/Tsubasa**


End file.
